


Defection

by AppleSeeds



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds
Summary: In 38AD, Aziraphale decides he can't stand by while Heaven commits another 'righteous' act that will take the lives of countless humans, so he travels to Hell seeking help to stop them, but Crowley is terrified for his safety.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	Defection

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no I wrote angst! Not really sure where this came from... Hope you like it though!

**38AD**

Being summoned back to Hell was never good. _Obviously_ , it was _Hell_. It usually meant Crowley had done something wrong, or something _right_ , anyway, and he groaned to himself as he trudged down the dark, damp, narrow stairway on his way to meet Beelzebub.

**_Please_ ** _just make this quick._

Crowley flicked his hair back over his shoulders and straightened his robes, squaring his shoulders as he strode out into Hell’s dark and dingy offices.

“Lord Beelzebub, what can I do for you today?”

Crowley even performed a little bow to enhance his feigned obsequiousness as he stepped through the doorway into Beelzebub’s domain. When he straightened back up, Crowley froze, quickly trying to school his expression as he took in the sight before him. _Aziraphale_ , with a demonic guard’s greasy hand latched onto his soft wrist to hold him in place, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“You know this angel?” Beelzebub asked with their usual, disinterested drawl.

“I’ve seen him on Earth, yeah,” Crowley replied as casually as possible, his heart seizing up in his chest. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what _you’re_ here to tell us. He _claims_ to have some information that could be very useful to us, but he says he’ll only speak to you.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and let his gaze trail up and down over Aziraphale, primarily to check for any signs of injury, at least in the first instance. He seemed fine, although understandably wary, the tension he was holding not disguised beneath his flowing white robes, and evident in the way he awkwardly twisted his arm as the guard held onto him.

“Why me?” Crowley asked. He couldn’t allow Beelzebub to deduce that he hadn’t just _seen_ Aziraphale on Earth, he had actually sought him out, on multiple occasions now. He certainly couldn’t let them see how much he secretly cared for the angel, and fought to mask the whirlwind of emotions he was experiencing, first and foremost his fear for Aziraphale’s safety.

Aziraphale’s presence in Hell wasn’t just _incongruous_ , with his soft, delicate white blond curls and his bright, white robes contrasting starkly with the squalid conditions and cruel, sadistic atmosphere of Hell... it was... it was _wrong_. Viscerally wrong. The angel was pure and graceful and _ethereal_. He had no business being here. Crowley rubbed at his throat to try to disguise the way he swallowed back the lump that had formed there.

“I don’t care,” Beelzebub grunted. “Interrogate him.”

“Right, yeah. Of course,” Crowley bowed again, discreetly shooting Aziraphale a questioning look, but Aziraphale dipped his chin and focused intently on the grimy floor beneath them.

Crowley strode out of the room, assuming the guard would bring Aziraphale along behind him, and tried to quickly decide which of the available rooms would be the least abhorrent to Aziraphale, the least inappropriate to be graced with his heavenly presence. Inevitably, they were all pretty disgusting, and in the end, Crowley settled for the one with the least obtrusive leak.

Crowley’s mind was racing as he ushered Aziraphale into the small room full of boxes of disorganised, unprocessed paperwork, stacked up against the walls with papers spilling out all over the floor. What could Aziraphale possibly have been thinking? Beelzebub implied he’d come here _voluntarily_. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it?

The guard roughly released Aziraphale’s wrist and practically flung him into the room. Crowley expected Aziraphale to make a disparaging comment about his treatment, or to at least tut disapprovingly, and when he didn’t even do that, the knot in Crowley’s stomach tightened.

The guard closed the door, leaving them alone at last. Crowley realised this was the first time they had ever been in an enclosed space alone together, and suddenly the room felt much smaller. Aziraphale was practically exuding angelic grace, but he also seemed to shrink into himself, fearful and questioning. Crowley’s protective instincts surged up, manifesting as anger. How dare Aziraphale put himself at risk like this?

“What in the name of Hell are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I needed to speak with you.”

“You could have just come and found me! You know, on _Earth_? Where it’s _safe_?”

“I couldn’t risk it. This is the only place where Heaven can’t monitor what I’m doing.”

"What were you _thinking_? What made you so sure they'd even let you see me? Beelzebub could have just tortured the information out of you!"

"I'm aware of that. I decided it was worth the risk."

Crowley aggressively shoved a box off the table in the room so he could perch on it, bowing his head and running his hands through his hair. 

“What could _possibly_ be worth you putting yourself at that kind of risk?”

“I need help. Heaven is planning something and I... I can’t let it happen. I just can’t.”

Crowley furrowed his brow and squinted at the angel. He seemed desperate and weary. Aziraphale had stood by and watched as his head office had committed all sorts of acts that would have been much more fitting for Crowley’s lot, and had, only five years ago, distanced himself from any responsibility for it, claiming he wasn’t consulted on ‘policy decisions’. What could be so bad that he’d finally decided to stop just accepting it?

“Planning to wipe out the human race? I’ll let Dagon know to expect an influx of new _residents_ , shall I?” Crowley sneered.

“No, of course not! Just... some of them.”

“ _Some of them_? Sounds familiar. What have the humans done this time? They didn’t dare to be themselves or anything so abhorrent, did they? Give them free will and punish them for using it, is that the plan?” Crowley turned and gestured to the sludge dripping from a pipe in the top corner of the room. “That’s the _pipe’s_ fault, I suppose, nothing to do with the maintenance guy who installed it?”

“Crowley, please...”

“Why did you ask to see _me_?”

"Well, I thought by now we'd developed something of... an understanding. I saw how you were after the flood, and the crucifixion... I know you care."

"All right, all right, _shhhh_!" Crowley hissed, his eyes flicking nervously towards the door, where the guard still lingered outside.

“There’s a village harbouring a rather large group of non-believers, they’ve been spreading falsehoods about God. Heaven wants to eradicate them.”

“And _that’s_ the straw that broke the camel’s back? That’s what you’d risk your existence for? You and I both know they’ve done much worse.”

“They say they want ‘the punishment to fit the crime’. They’re going to start a plague. It won’t just wipe out the people in the village, it will spread far and wide and they don’t care about that at all. Gabriel is calling it ‘collateral damage’. This disease will affect everyone. Even children.”

Aziraphale widened his eyes and Crowley once again glanced towards the door, his fury building inside him. Not only was Aziraphale stupid enough to put himself at risk, he was trying to use Crowley’s own weaknesses against him. ‘ _I know you care_ ’... Crowley should never have let his guard down. Talk about taking risks. He was a hypocrite.

“What do you expect _me_ to do about it?” he growled.

"I don’t expect you to do anything alone, but with enough demonic power you could stop them, _protect_ the village.”

"What difference would it make? The ‘righteous’ will end up listening to your lot singing celestial harmonies for eternity and the unbelievers will just end up down here eventually either way."

"Possibly not. They'll have the rest of their lives to make choices and work towards the light. I hardly think that seeing thousands of people wiped out would do much to encourage anyone to have _faith_."

“Then maybe they _shouldn’t_ have faith. You’re an _angel_ and _you’re_ questioning it! How can you expect _humans_ not to?” Aziraphale picked anxiously at the fabric of his robes, his eyes glistening as tears welled, and Crowley softened. He desperately wanted to keep the angel safe. Why couldn’t he just see sense? Crowley pushed himself up off the table and stepped close to Aziraphale, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper. "Look, I know it's hard, I obviously don't agree with most of what goes on around here either, but putting yourself at risk like this is _madness_."

"I couldn't just do nothing. Not again.”

"What happened to not interfering with the divine plan? Ineffability and all that?"

"Exactly, it _is_ ineffable. I cannot even begin to know or understand what is right, I can only act on how I _feel_. Please, Crowley! Please help me."

_I can only act on how I feel_... That attitude had never led Crowley to anything other than pain, yet he knew he would end up doing exactly the same right now, his heart aching to see Aziraphale in so much turmoil, but caring too much to risk anything happening to him. Existence was dark enough. Existence without Aziraphale to brighten it? That would be unbearable.

"It's too dangerous,” Crowley muttered, still keeping his voice low, maintaining his proximity to the angel.

"It won't be! I can tell you everything you need to know! No demons will be harmed."

" _What_? You think I care about _these_ idiots? I mean it's too dangerous for _you_! What do you think Gabriel will do if he finds out you came down here?"

Aziraphale visibly swallowed and started wringing his hands together in front of his stomach. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"If a load of demons show up to stop them, they're gonna figure out what happened, angel." Crowley felt his own eyes prick with tears. "I can't... I can't do this. I won't put you at risk like that."

"I could tell them you tortured me. You could discorporate me, just before it happens, that would make it believable!” Aziraphale pleaded.

“No! I'm not going to do that! I'm sorry.”

"You're just going to let all those people die?" Crowley scowled at him but didn’t respond, focusing on fighting back his tears, trying to ignore the way his heart clenched at the prospect of letting down this being who had brought light into the vacuous, unrelenting darkness of Crowley’s existence. " _Please_ , Crowley! I have no one else to turn to. You're the only one.... you're the only one I trust."

Crowley glared at him. _No one_ trusted him, and if Aziraphale thought he could trust him then he really was a fool. So why did the sound of those words feel like kindling to a tiny flame inside Crowley’s chest that had never quite been snuffed out completely?

“No, Aziraphale. I can’t help you,” he asserted firmly.

“I don’t understand why,” Aziraphale murmured sadly, wiping a tear away that had broken free and was trailing down his cheek. Crowley was relieved he had done so, unsure whether he would have been able to restrain the urge to do it himself otherwise. “I imagine you’ll receive quite an impressive commendation.”

“I won’t let you put yourself at risk like that. I can’t lose you. I'm sorry, angel. You can't take things like this on yourself. You were right before, you’re not responsible. You have to just let it happen.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t challenge me,” Crowley growled. “You’re going to get out of here right now, and you’re never going to do anything this stupid ever again. I’ll see you to the stairs, make sure you get out safely.”

Aziraphale hesitated, his eyes wandering over Crowley’s face. If he was trying to come up with a way to change his mind he was definitely wasting his time. Crowley was consumed by a desperate need to get the angel safely out of Hell as quickly as possible.

“But if I leave without telling you anything, won't they see that as a failure on your part?” Aziraphale tried, pleading to _what_ , Crowley’s vanity?

“I hate to break it to you, angel, but I don’t care. I don’t take that much pride in my work.”

“But... I don't want them to punish you,” Aziraphale whispered, reaching out and taking Crowley’s hand. Crowley tensed as he stared at their interlinked hands, his instincts warning him that Aziraphale was trying to manipulate him, but the angel’s eyes were telling him something else. Aziraphale looked exactly as Crowley felt, like he was _scared_ for him. “Oh, I'm so sorry for dragging you into this! Please, just let me give you the information, then they won’t have reason to harm you!”

“Forget about it, I'll be fine.”

“But Crowley, this is all my fault!”

“Don’t worry about it. I can deal with these idiots. I promise.”

There was no denying that Beelzebub would _not_ be pleased. An angel literally walking into Hell to give up vital information and then being escorted safely out having said _nothing_ , that wasn’t going to be easy for Crowley to explain away. But he would manage, somehow. He had to. Whatever the outcome, it would be easier to endure than the agony of knowing Aziraphale was in danger. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and smoothed his thumb over his knuckles.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Crowley released Aziraphale’s hand and stepped back from him. He felt an urge to put his arm around his shoulders, to hold Aziraphale against him, maybe even wrap his wing around him as he escorted him out in order to keep him safe, to shield him from the dirt and grime and malevolence of Hell. Aziraphale was far too good for this place. He was far too good for Heaven, too.

Crowley opened the door, fixing the guard with an assertive stare. “I can see him out.”

The guard nodded and retreated back into whatever dark hole they’d crawled out of. Crowley walked ahead of Aziraphale, unable to restrain himself from turning back every few seconds to make sure he was still with him, to make sure he was safe. He walked briskly, his mind full of concepts like trust and love, things a demon had absolutely no business even contemplating, let alone _feeling_. And here was an angel, an angel so loving and kind that Heaven didn’t deserve him, questioning, betraying, concealing secrets... and dare Crowley believe it, caring about the fate of a demon.

Things evidently were not as black and white as some forces would have them believe.

_Maybe one day_ , Crowley thought, dipping into the privacy of the stairwell and pulling the angel into a desperate, tight embrace that lasted as long as Crowley could dare to hold it, sinking into Aziraphale's radiant warmth and softness. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, and Crowley could feel the outpouring of love from him. This connection between them was real, and, as with so many things, the fact that it would remain unspoken didn’t make it any less true.

_Maybe one day we can stop being afraid._

Crowley released Aziraphale and watched, still holding back his tears, as the angel ascended the stairs back towards the light where he belonged. At least Crowley knew he would be safe, and he would always do whatever was necessary to keep him out of harm's way. That would have to be enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
